by Taj63622
Chapter 26
Jameel Dhadha objected firmly to their leaving for England. He held himself responsible for reducing them to take this drastic decision. They depended on him, expected him to come with better results, but his failure to do so has lost them of all hope.
They could not leave him and burdened with regret. It took a lot of convincing to pacify him and his family.
Jameel Dhadha, Shuhel Chacha and Iqbal dropped them off to the airport. It felt as if they only came here yesterday, full of anticipation to find Dhadhi’s brother. But they leave as they came.
New world or third world, the queues at the airport is the same. Her mind was heavy with thoughts. She did not want to think. To distract her attention elsewhere, she decides to play a game on her phone, when she notices six miscalls from an unknown number. The last one was only two minutes ago. She has not checked any messages or calls since leaving Sreemangal. There was only person who had this number, yet she wondered why it showed up as unknown. Her mother is most likely worried at the message she sent last night. She kept the news of their return to England as delayed as possible from reaching her mother. She could have informed her four days ago, when they received confirmation for their tickets. Thoughts and questions are doubtless running through her mother’s mind just as they were tormenting her and Dhadhi. As they move along the queue, she alerts Dhadhi to the numerous miscalls. She also suspected it was her mother. ‘Call her,’ Dhadhi advises. Number is unreachable.
They progress along the queue again, when her phone rings again. She answers the call immediately.
There was no answer. The call abruptly ends.
She waits impatiently to receive the call again, and tries dialling her mother on the contact number saved in her phone again, despite knowing the call came from an unknown number.
She receives the unknown call again, and frantically answers it. This time she heard something, but nothing was clear. The line was broken. Again, the call abruptly ends. ‘Hello!’ she yells down the phone, directing passengers’ attention towards her. Lowering her voice, she tries again. ‘Who is this?’
Someone taps her on the shoulder behind her, informing her that reception is poor here. She will have to go out. She does as advised, leaving the queue. Dhadhi also follows her, trolleying their luggage. They walk out into the sandy planes of the car park ground. They stood impatiently to receive the call again, which she does quite soon. The reception has improved slightly. She could hear someone. The caller’s voice is crackly, but she could hear someone speaking. She moves about the ground, hoping to catch a better signal, with Dhadhi closely following her.
‘Mayah,’ she catches her name through the broken connection. ‘It’s me, Dad . . . can you hear me?’
‘Dad?’ she says in astonishment, looking at Dhadhi fearfully.
Nargis looks at Mayah equally astounded.
‘Mayah,’ the crackly voice comes through again. ‘I’m here.’
‘Here?’ she says in confusion. ‘Where?’ she asks, looking alertly about the car park, as if she would see him somewhere amongst the crowd.
Then, to her great irritation, the line goes dead. Few seconds merely pass that she receives the call again.
‘Where are you?’ she asks down the phone. She heard no reply. Dhadhi takes the phone off her hands and tries instead. She also heard nothing.
‘I think that was Dad,’ she says disbelievingly.
‘What did he mean by here?’ Dhadhi asks fearfully.
‘I don’t know,’ she admits.
‘But we won’t be here anymore,’ Dhadhi states the obvious. ‘We will be gone from here.’
At the mention of going, Dahdhi realises that she no longer held the trolley. ‘Our bags!’ she says.
Mayah also starts at the realisation, noticing her handbag is not on her either. She must have left it in the trolley. They look about the ground, but cannot find it. Suspecting the trolley is inside the airport, she searches there instead. They could not see it. Their nightmare was quickly becoming real. They leave the airport and look about the car park again. At length, they find a trolley, but it was empty. ‘Where are our bags?’ Mayah asks foolishly, preserving the denial of having become a victim of theft.
‘It had all our bags,’ Dhadhi says, her voice sounding strangled. ‘Our money and our passports were in your handbag.’
Her pulse beats in dread, all too aware that their flight departure will be in less than half-hour. She approaches a security staff inside the airport, and desperately relays her circumstance. But detained under severe panic, she spoke too fast. Her words came out jumbled, and made no sense. She slows down and tries again. The security guard talks into his transceiver, alerting the other guards, and giving clear description of their suitcases. ‘You will have to file a report at the police station,’ he says in Sylheti, which she only just understood. She was not impressed with his answer.
‘Our flight leaves soon,’ she informs him, hoping to reach his sympathy. ‘We don’t have time to go to police station.’
‘The guards are looking,’ he tells her. ‘If they can’t find it, you will have to file a report at police station. No passport, no ticket, no checking,’ he confirms.
Realising he will not be of any help, she looks around for Dhadhi. She was also doing her best to find help, frantically approaching one security staff to another. Neither finding any help, they regroup. ‘What do we do?’ Dhadhi asks in panic. Feeling slightly unsteady, she grabs Mayah’s arm. Growing concerned, she asks after Dhadhi’s health, looking for a seat nearby so Dhadhi could sit down.
‘I’m fine,’ Dhadhi reassures her. ‘Don’t worry about me. Call Jameel, he’ll know what to do.’
She dials his number, but the lack of reception fails to connect her call. She could honestly cry. However, keeping positive, they leave the airport, into the heat of the afternoon. Panic made her hands so unsteady that she passes Jameel Dhadha’s number twice. On finally reaching it the third time, she feels Dhadhi’s hold loosen from her arm. Instinctively, she looks around and then to her grave shock, she finds Dhadhi falling to the ground, unconscious.
She screams in fright, unknowingly dropping her phone as she tries to catch Dhadhi.
A small crowd draws towards the scene. Cradling Dhadhi in her arms, she calls out to her, tapping her face gently in her effort to wake her. She looks at the spectators pleadingly, seeking their help, but she receives none. Suddenly, she cannot understand what to say or do.
‘What’s happening?’ a voice says from the crowd.
‘Dhadhi fainted,’ she says without looking.
The person makes his way forward and kneels down beside her. He tells her to move, before carrying Dhadhi in his arm. At length, she looks at him.
She undergoes another shock.
It was the Street Entertainer, the Shahiraj of Rajshahi, dressed in his signature attire.
He also seemed to be in shock upon seeing her, but he said nothing to acknowledge their acquaintance. Their silent exchange was brief. Carrying Dhadhi securely in his arms, he makes his way through the crowd. A taxi stood by, loading two passenger’s luggage into the boot. The Shahiraj of Rajshai approaches it, and claims it as their ride instead, positioning Dhadhi carefully in in the back seat. The driver comes round, demanding to know the meaning of the forceful entrance. ‘Patient needs a doctor,’ the Shahiraj of Rajshahi simply says.
The driver refuses at once. ‘This taxi is reserved for these passengers.’
The Shahiraj of Rajshahi wasted no time. Apologising to the two passengers, he unloads their luggage from the boot, and sits in the driver’s seat. ‘Collect it from Osmani Hospital.’
The driver stares speechlessly at the Shahiraj of Rajshahi, and continues to watch speechlessly as his taxi takes off.
Osmani Medical College Hospital is a non-government hospital. Therefore, treatment would be safe and reliable. The Shahiraj of Rajshahi reassured her that Dhadhi would get a thorough examination here. She
did. High blood pressure caused Dhadhi to faint. The heat and exposure to the sun only added insult to the injury. Dhadhi always had blood pressure problems. For that reason, she was on medication. The medicines have gone missing together with the rest of their belongings.
This is all her fault. She encouraged Dhadhi to come here. She promised to help her, to become her full support, not reduce her to a sick bed. How careless did she become? Was it not enough that she lied to her father that she should endanger his mother’s life? If something unfortunate were to happen today, then how would she have faced her father? What excuse could she have given him? She would have made her father an orphan. If the Shahiraj of Rajshahi did not come the right time, then she would never have forgiven herself. She was disgusted at her thoughtless. Her carelessness had lost them their belongings. She should have behaved more responsibly. They could have been heading home, but because of her doing, they have missed their flight. She could not find Dhadhi’s brother, lost all their belongings, and is the reason why Dhadhi is in this hospital.
‘The only plumbers I know unblock drains,’ the Shahiraj of Rajshahi says into the silence.
She looks at him confusedly. Walking over to the water cooler, he fills a plastic cup and offers it to her. ‘This water in,’ he points to the cup, ‘and that water out,’ he adds pointing to her eyes. ‘I don’t know any plumbers that can unblock tear ducts.’
There was a strange encouragement in his frankness, which led her to release those unshed tears in her eyes. She has been trying hard to not cry and look pathetic in front the Sahahiraj of Rajshahi. But she felt unusually good at feeling weak. She drinks the water, and cautiously lifts her teary gaze at the Shahiraj of Rajshahi.
He no longer wore his hat, leaning sideways against the wall, his back to her. ‘Cry all you want,’ he says over his shoulder. ‘I’m not looking.’
She started at his accuracy of detecting her glance. In spite of herself, a smile rose to her lips. Finishing her water, she gets up and stands next to him.
‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘If you weren’t here today, then –’
‘Then someone else would have helped you,’ he adds.
‘No one else did. Everyone just watched.’
‘You created a scene, and people always want to see a free show.’
Feeling slightly at ease, she resumes her seat. Dhadhi still has not regained consciousness. Her condition is stable. Once she is awake and doctors can confirm her health is out of danger, they can discharge her.
At length, the nurse leaves Dhadhi’s room. She gets up immediately and makes eager enquiries after her health. She is stable, but still unconscious. The nurse recommends her to wait outside so to not disturb the patient. ‘Here are the fee papers,’ the nurse says, handing her some A4 documents. ‘You can pay it at the counter ahead.’
She took the papers as if she were in good supply of money. How was she going to settle the bill?
Before the Shahiraj of Rajsahi can detect the reasons to her hesitation, she heads for the reception desk. To her great relief, there is a queue of two people before her, giving her sufficient time to decide on how to explain her present financial situation. Perhaps she can negotiate something. The two people quickly settle their bills, and her turn came ever so soon. The receptionist reaches out her hands for the bill papers, and she unhesitatingly gives them to her. Having looked about her for priers, she lowers her voice, and explains her difficulty to settle the fee. The receptionist looks unaffected, and demands the fee settlement. She was conscious that everyone has become aware of her inability to pay.
She explains again, and again the receptionist was determined for the payment, this time threatening that the hospital will stop all treatment if she did not clear the payment.
‘No, please don’t,’ she pleads the receptionist, seeking other alternatives to reach a settlement.
There was no other alternative. A queue has built up behind her. As she was considering the next feasible action, she finds the Shahiraj of Rajshahi whips the bill papers from her hands.
Having studied the total cost, he takes off his hat, withdraws some money held securely within the hatband, and settles the bill. She was embarrassed at her lack of funds, but grateful for his help. ‘Receipt please,’ he demands from the receptionist.
‘When they ask for money,’ the Shahiraj of Rajshahi says, as they move away from the counter, ‘they print it on A4. When they thank you for paying, they print it on this,’ he gestures towards the small strip of paper.
‘You have indebted me once more to your generosity,’ she says awkwardly.
‘My Amma always said,’ he replies, ‘never take the curses of the suffering. They always come true. I didn’t do anything for you or me. I simply saved the poor receptionist’s life from your curses.’
The Shahiraj of Rajshahi certainly did not like accepting compliments, despite deserving them. He was a strange man. She had a difficult time understanding him. She only met him twice, and in each meeting, she gained an impression that he had a personal grudge with the world and its inhabitants. Yet he helped her, with whom he once had an argument. She felt incredibly grateful and bad for disrupting his evening. Even when she said that she shan’t be offended if he wished to leave, he stayed the whole while. Admittedly, she did not have the courage to release him either.
Upon reaching Dhadhi’s room, she looks through the window of the door. Dhadhi was still asleep.
‘Two lone women,’ the Shahiraj of Rajshahi says suddenly, as he leans comfortably against the wall beside her, ‘no money, no bag, no belonging, and at the airport. Were you running away?’
She has not related to him of her ordeal at the airport. She did not wish to burden her troubles on him, but she strangely felt he had a right to know. It will be a long narration, so she reclaims her seat on the chair. The Shahiraj of Rajshahi keeps his position, watching her concernedly as she considers how to start. She will tell him everything. Thus, decides to start right from the beginning.